The Melody in Your Voice
by Bolinlover123
Summary: It was Bolin's sixth birthday. It was his fault their parents were killed. He hadn't listened when Mommy and Daddy called for him. He just kept going further away down the street, past the corner, into the alleyway. He lead his parents right to the mugger, to death. If only he hadn't let go of Mommy's hand. He knows Mako must hate him now. Happy birthday to him.


"It's an erhu!" Korra says helpfully, as she sees Bolin's gaze lock onto the bowed instrument displayed before them. "My dad used to play – yeah, I know, he doesn't seem the type, huh?" Korra laughs at the surprised look on Bolin's face. "But he's good at it – really good, actually! He tried to teach me when I was younger, but…" she sits, takes the erhu and rests it on her knee, runs the bow across the instrument's two strings.

The instrument lets out an angry, pitiful, screeching wail (not dissimilar to a pigeon- cat getting mercilessly beaten with a frying pan, Bolin can't help but notice) in protest. Bolin cringes. The shop keeper sends the two a Look that could freeze fire. Korra smiles sheepishly. "I wasn't so good at it, obviously."

"Can I try?" the words are out of his mouth before he realizes. He blinks. Where had _that_ come from?

Korra looks surprised, but she smiles. "Why not? Nobody's playing can be any worse than mine!" She gets up, motions for Bolin to sit in her place, and rests the fiddle so that the sound box sits on his knee. She spares a glance at the shop keeper behind the counter, and says, quietly, "I'd be more careful than I was – I may be the Avatar, but the way that old bat is looking at us, I doubt that'll matter if this thing ends up broken!" The shop keeper sends the two another Look, and Korra smiles innocently as she waves back cheerily.

The words barely register in Bolin's mind, though, as he grasps the neck in his left hand, plucks the strings hesitantly, turns the tuning pegs experimentally; before he picks up the bow and slowly, carefully, plays a note.

And another.

And another.

And then another, until, before anyone knows it, beautiful music fills the air. He closes his eyes and lets the melody wash over him, and the rest of the world seems to drop away.

Distantly, he hears Korra gasp softly, hears her let out a small, _"Oh..!"_ of surprise, but none of that matters now. He's sure that he's never seen it before – no, he _knows_ he's never seen it before, let alone held one in his hands. But, like some kind of bizarre muscle memory, the motions of drawing the bow, his fingers pressing the strings… it's familiar and comforting, as if he's done it a hundred times before.

And…just maybe….

It feels like the most natural thing in the world, like it's a part of him, somehow. _"Like Earthbending,"_ he realizes, as he continues playing, lovely and wistful and hauntingly sad.

_Like… home._

But as suddenly as he starts, he stops. He opens his eyes; confusion and a strange sense of loss washing over him.

"_Spirits,_ Bolin…!" he starts, and he turns to see Korra staring at him in amazement. Behind him, the shop keeper is quietly wiping her eyes. "That was… incredible! I've never seen anything like that! Where the heck did you learn to play like that?"

He looks down, eyebrows furrowed. He closes his eyes again. He remembers now, vaguely. A warm, gentle voice, singing a sad, lonely song that used to be a like a lullaby to only him. Hard, rough hands, toughened by many, many years of hard work, guiding his own on a bowed instrument, very similar to the one he holds now.

He _thinks_ those eyes were green- they _must_ have been. Like his own.

Or amber?

No, no, _green,_ they must have been _green_…. _HER _eyes-not HIS-must have been _green! _She was from the Earth Kingdom, not Dad! Daddy was from Fire Nation descent!

Right?

Or …was it the other way around?

His mind tries again and again to form the pictures in his broken memories, to glue them together- but they never stick.

The uncertainty pains him in unimaginable ways.

He's asked Mako to describe them both so many times….how could he not remember?

Try as he might, though, he can't recall a face, can _never_ recall a face. Sometimes, in the small hours of the night, he can't help but wonder if he imagined everything, this phantasm and the memories that come with her, and the knowledge – or the lack thereof – haunts him.

Sometimes when he can't sleep, he goes into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror; boring holes into his soul, willing his mind to remember something, _anything_ of those first five years. Thinking that if he stares at the green of his eyes hard enough, another pair will stare back at him; be them belonging to female or male, he doesn't know, but it's the torture he deserves.

Mako says he looks like Dad; the same curly hair and wide jaw, the same glistening smile. Then why can't the mirror show him that? Why can't _he_ see that?

Why-

"Bolin?"

He looks up again, sees Korra still looking at him, this time with a worry in her eyes.

How long had he been out of it?

"Are you okay, Bo?"

He suddenly feels pain on his palms. He looks down at them and sees blots of red shining on the flesh. He had been gripping the bow so tightly that it had cut into him.

Something in his heart hurts, and he suddenly feels very, very alone.

"I… don't know." And he feels, before he realizes, that his cheeks are damp with tears.

Something in his throat closes, and he finds it hard to breathe through the ach in him. It's not like it's the first time he's felt like this, so why did it come on so suddenly?

Then, abruptly, he knows he can't stay here in this store any longer or he's going to have a breakdown of some kind, and he really doesn't want anyone- especially Korra- to see him this way.

He's so thankful his brother isn't here at the moment. But that doesn't matter anyway, because he knows Korra is going to tell him about this later, and he feels so ashamed. He doesn't want Mako to find out about this, but he will, and that makes him feel awful. How will Mako react? Pity? Anger? Mako had always been able to remember everything and tell memories to him as bedtime stories. Stories he could never recall in his own mind.

_What kind of son are you?_

No. _No…_flashes of memories of the erhu playing are filling his mind's eye, and in between he can feel Korra's hand on his shoulder, eyes very worried on her face.

The worst part is that he wants it- the memories that is. Because they're so few of them and so fuzzy, that he has to struggle to recall if they are real, or if his mind is just conjuring them up to fool him and see what he wishes had been real. The worst part is that it's so painful- but he knows he deserves this pain. It's just_-blank_. It's as if he never had ever had a family at all. Those first five years never existed. All he can recall is barely scraping by day by day on the streets; only Mako as his only family, only Mako as the only person in the world who ever loved him and cared if he lived or died.

_Only Mako. _

He looks past Korra- at the door. Anywhere but her face.

He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

His hands have started to shake.

He's going to be sick.

He's going to breakdown.

He really doesn't know what's wrong with him.

The music is starting to echo in his head again. The hands guiding his own, the women full of love, the melody in her voice beautiful, soft… but he isn't playing the instrument.

_Flash: _A gentle voice that reminds him of love is talking to him, laughing, but he can't understand the words; _Mommy. _He feels the warmth of hands that used to tuck him in at night; they are rough, yet soft –_ Daddy's-_ and they start to tickle him and Mako in their bed that they shared, and then a big, wet, kiss for each of them on their heads before his- the bearer of the red scarf-voice say's _"Goodnight, boys. Daddy loves you."_

It was their very_ last_ "goodnight". Their last _everything; _the night before "It" happened.

But he can't help but think it sounded more like "_goodbye_."

But, he doesn't remember what that bed feels like, and he doesn't understand why the lights are on, because hasn't it just been time for bed..? And then he realizes; he blinks, and he's back in the present…..he's sixteen, and only the shop keeper and Korra are in the store with him.

A part of him wants to close his eyes and let these feelings and images turn into memories that he knows, deep in the back of his mind, _must_ still be there- he couldn't have forgotten _everything_, right?- begging to be cherished again, wash over him.

But the bigger part of him is scared. Scared of what they would think of him, wonders how they could _ever_ be proud of him.

He doesn't deserve those memories.

He's done so many bad things to survive; lie, cheat, steal, hurt people, and more…He didn't _want_ to be a bad boy, but they _had_ to; they would have died otherwise. He couldn't pity the people they stole from or had to hurt and apologize after and feel bad about it, because that wasn't how the streets worked.

( _Well, maybe if I ask really nicely and say "please" and "thank you" and tell the lady her hair is nice, Mako, maybe then she'll give us a meal!)_ Yeah right. Then what about the next day? Mako had just given him this look that he would in learn in later years, was one that meant he pitied his innocence being stolen.

Very few people cared about street kids and gave them food because they had their own problems to worry about, had their own families to feed, and were cruel. Most yelled and threatened them and called the police; so you had to _never ever_ get caught. They would both soon be masters of being sneaky, and Mako made it all seem justified; his childhood had caused him to never feel stealing as wrong. After a while, Mako put up the charade that he no longer felt guilt in anything he had ever stolen; food, clothes, money, whatever. Pretended he never felt like a dirty, bad person when doing anything the Triple Threats made him do, because he always knew they had no other choice.

But he knew; he really did, deep down. He knew every sacrifice his brother did for him; he just pretend to be naive for Mako's sake. Because ignorance was bliss, but fake ignorance for someone you love, sometimes, is all you can do for them, to let them think you do not know of the horror they try in vein to protect you from. Because if Mako _thought_ he was happy, and _thought_ he was protecting him, then Mako was happy, and _he_ was doing his job as a little brother right.

He knew just who Mako was whispering, _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," _to in the middle of the night when he hoped he couldn't hear. He knew his older brother hated it and regretted every job, every shift he had to work for the Triple Threats just to feed the both of you. Bolin knew the reason why his big bother came back to the alleyways battered and bruised, glassy eyed, refusing to talk, while an invisible layer of shame ate away at him that no amount of food could fill. Nights, when Mako thought he was asleep, pressed against a wall, Bolin would stare sadly at his back; partly because he was scared that if he faced the wall, it would be easier for the firebender to disappear and he had to be on alert just as much as Mako. Nights when the earthbender couldn't sleep -which was far too frequent- wondering how he could help; but instead, times when he couldn't bear to try to comfort the elder because he didn't have the strength to, and the green-eyed boy knew it made Mako feel guilty when he saw him upset and Bolin wanted him to feel like he was doing a good job, Bolin learned to distinguish the different types of his brother's cries. Which type of his cries were meant for their parents, which ones were meant for Hunger, which ones were meant for shame, and which ones were meant for pain and fear and sorrow at the raw cruelty of their lives. Very few times his eyes had reason to water in _joy _at finding a lucky bunch of food, or an abandoned building that seemed like a gift from the Spirits. And as he got older, it seemed the cries in the middle of the night for Momma and Poppa grew less and less -for the _both_ of them. And that terrified him more than anything- most likely from all the time gone by and the fact that they both felt like they weren't those two happy, innocent, little boys anymore; they were so different and crooked and damaged that Bolin didn't feel like those boys were ever them, and the cries of shame and pain rang out more and more each passing night.

But the guilt and shame never left Bolin each time he himself had to do something. He cared too much, was much too nice, and that was a cause of trouble many times in his younger years. He just couldn't block it all out and "_get the damn job done, or you're gonna get punished again, kid!," _like Mako could. And punishments did they get.

He knows Mamma and Papa would be ashamed of him. And he doesn't know if the memories are real or not of it he's going crazy and-

It's just too painful.

He can't stay in the store anymore. He can't stand Korra and the store keeper looking at him with the Pity Face.

He _needs_ to stop crying, he-

He _needs_ to get out of here **_now._**

If he could go into the Avatar State, this whole store would be rubble by now.

"Bo. Talk to me." In the back of his mind, he hears Korra's voice; her voice sad, cautious, and uncertain. As if he were made of glass, and one wrong move would cause him to shatter, "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have come in here if I knew it would upset you, I just-"

Did he seem that upset to her? His voice comes out strained, abrupt; an excuse for all that's wrong with him exploding out of his mouth in a tangled mess. " No. I- it's just… It's my fault. I –I have to go!"

He basically drops the instrument; moving hastily past Korra and out the door. He ignores her yells to wait, "_Bolin, wait! Come back!"_and gets lost in the sea of people in the sidewalk. Not looking where he's going and probably going towered the wrong direction of the Air Temple Island, he bumps into a man and just keeps going, not even bothering to apologize. Korra is probably long behind him now and he doesn't care. He knows these streets; she doesn't. He keeps going and going, until he full out runs into the closest ally he sees. Once there, he leans against the grimy wall and sinks to his knees. He's breaths heaving with the pain of loss, and sobs wraking his form.

The last time he cried this hard was when he was little, and the night of their deaths was still crystal clear.

But nothing is clear anymore. It's all a jumbled, fuzzy mess of memories he doesn't even know are real; confusion and longing burying in his mind and soul.

And now, he _cries_. He cries like the child he never got to be. Because no matter how innocent or naïve he appears to everyone, his innocence was stolen at the raw age of six, never to be returned again.

Of course, you would never guess. And that's how he wants it.

What had he done to deserve this? Had he had an evil past life? He thought only the Avatar could be reincarnated.

It's all his fault, all his fault, _all….his…fault…._

He cries for everything. He cries for himself. He cries for Mako for having to sacrifice everything for him. The _guilt_ and the _burden_ he knows that he is, is too much to bear and he just want to bury himself in dirt and never get up. He cries, because he has to pretend to be happy all the time, and it's just so hard to show the real him- not that anyone would like the real him, or even like the "happy" him. He cries for all the pain and suffering and unfairness. He cries for the cruelty of the world where there was, and still are so many kids like him orphaned. He cries because Korra loves Mako and will never love him. He cries because he is a horrible little brother, and a non-worthy son that his parents would be ashamed of. He cries because he is useless. He cries for his friend, Asami, for having to fight her own father and find out he had been an evil liar her whole life, and just wishes she didn't have to go through that because she is an incredible girl. He cries for the benders who had their bending taken from Amon, and still don't know that the part of their very being and soul that they lost, can be given back by Korra.

He cries because he needs his mother and father.

_He needs his mother and father. _

He cries because he is so, so, _lost_…

He doesn't know what to do with himself without Mako- and he knows how _pathetic_ that is. He has no idea who he, is or what his purpose is for. He honestly never thought he would live this long, make it to sixteen. He thought him and probably Mako would have died by now, _long _ago. He's surprised he made it to a teenager, doesn't know how that's possible. Without Mako, he probably wouldn't have made it a year on his own- no, forget a year, he wouldn't have made it_ two month_s! They've never thought of the future, of having lives of their own, being able to be an actual person. Living day-by-day was hard enough. They were too busy trying to steal food to make it to the next day; there was no time for planning, or being a real kid, or _hoping_. Innocence was ripped from them both that night after they witnessed their parents being burned alive in front of them. If either of them had one day without getting hurt in a fight, one day without running away from thugs trying to beat them up and steal all the little they have, or the police or angry store keepers or social workers trying to send them to an orphanage, a day where they actually found food, a day without getting caught in a rainstorm or blizzard, a day where neither was sick from dehydration or undernourishment or lack of hygiene or an actual illness, a day where they didn't have to risk having to do illegal things for Triad gang members, a day where they weren't pressured to do drugs or undergo….intimate activities for money…or a whole week without having been arrested and spent a night in jail, they were considered lucky.

There was no time for him to think "_When I'm sixteen, I want to do this…."_Or _"When I'm older and we actually have a place to live, I think I'll be a…." _or even,_ "I wonder what I'll be like when I grow up?"_

None of those were possible thoughts for two orphans with criminal records. The fact that they are both alive today, and have a roof over their heads is a gift from the Spirits.

No, it was, _"Will I wake up tomorrow?"_ and _"Will Mako wake up next to me tomorrow morning, or will he be cold and lifeless and I'll be alone forever?"_

He cries because he is cursed and what happened is his punishment.

_It had been his sixth birthday._

He cries because he can clearly remember the evil firebender's face like it was yesterday as he laughed at him and his brother. A murderous smile with pleasure, showing no regrets. The look in his eyes.

To this day, he remembers just how the mugger's voice sounded when he sneered, _"Well, well….look what we have here. Hello, little boys, do your mommy and daddy have any money? That's the only way I'll let you all leave my tuft alive. Now tell me, do you know what burning flesh smells like?"_

He would soon never be able to forget the smell**_._**

A firebending stance.

Two swipes of the hand were all it took- an eruption of searing flames blasted at his face and her chest, eating away at the flesh, unrecognizable faces now.

Two pairs of open eyes- green and ember- staring, but unseeing, lifeless.

Two other pairs of open eyes- green and ember- young, horrified; never able to forget what they saw, quivering, drowning in tears, stung by the heat.

Mommy and Daddy were non-benders. Helplessly defenseless.

The sick part is, when he really thinks about it, the bitterest part of him agrees with _Amon._ It agrees with that monster about how benders where suppressing the non-benders and hurting them more and more, leaving them unable to fight back. Because he had witnessed it first-hand. Because it had destroyed his life.

And he _hates _that. It makes him hate himself so much that he can actually see where that evil monster was coming from- even if he was a bender himself and everything he said was a lie- the point he made was wholly true, and he hates that what it makes him feel.

And if he didn't have Mako, if he let himself be taken in by rage, and revenge and bitterness, he thinks he could have turned into something far too similar to Amon.

One of the things that terrifies him the most about his life, is when he lets himself wonder what would have happened to him, or what he could've _become_ without Mako, what Mako could've _become_ without him, without his love and support….if they didn't have each other…

It's an ugly, horrible, sad, lonely answer. He much rather stay positive, than be alone with his thoughts.

Because when he lets himself think about it all, in the quiet of his mind….

_No._

_Happy_.

He has to stay happy, has to joke and smile, because if he didn't…he would be miserable…

He remembers that horrid night so clearly…

**_Fire. _**So much heat surrounding them.

Suffocating. Screams. Fire.

Mommy. Daddy.

Dead.

It had been his sixth birthday.

_His sixth birthday._

He hadn't even been six for twenty-four hours and their lives fell apart.

He hadn't even had six years with them; how could he ever expect his memory to reach into those early years, back to before all the pain pain pain and lonely lonely lonely and Hunger?

He was numb as he held on to Mako for dear life, watching everything fall apart in front of them, mouth open in a silent scream, contents of his stomach churning.

Evil laughter. Taunting smile that showed he knew exactly what he was doing to these two boys and enjoyed every bit of it. Boney hand ablaze, outstretched, the other searching their bags and inside of pockets for money and valuables that the bodies didn't have. He is so eternally grateful that the_ Monster's_ dirty hands never once rested on the precious Red Scarf; that was his and Mako's most precious item, and no one would ever lay a finger on it. Apparently the Monster thought The Scarf wasn't worth it.

But The Scarf was _everything_ to them. The Scarf was the last piece of Daddy; it stood for Hope, it gave them Reason To Keep Going. It was tissues for tears, and pillows for heads, and blankets for freezing skin, and bandages for every boo-boo and wound; it let Bolin pick Mako out from a crowd, it was their Rope, so that he could hold onto Mako in the dark and not get lost when Mako was too weak to firebend. It was a promise given to him as he wait in the alleyways, day after day, that each night Mako would come back. It was Daddy, because Daddy would keep them safe.

_Daddy will keep us safe._

He remembers piercing amber eyes; the same color as Mako's and- _yes, it's coming to him now;_ his _father's_- but so, so different.

Dark, sadistic shine, cynical, insane, bloodthirsty pleasure of a madman. Looking right at them both.

He gasped and cowered, hugging Mako, watching with watering eyes.

He remembers having heard Mako yelling a moment ago, a moment ago, when Momma and Papa were able to yell back to them, a warning. Back when they were still trying to protect them. And now Momma and Papa couldn't. He thinks that was the last time Mako's voice had sounded like his age; a terrified eight-year-old, still innocent. He remembered a moment ago when their mother had told them to run away and hide, how Mako had said they weren't leaving them, how they were both getting more scared by the second at how scared Mommy and Daddy seemed. He didn't think he could feel any part of his body anyway, and Mako was shaking too hard to be able to do anything either.

If they had ran, maybe they wouldn't have heard the screams. Maybe they wouldn't have seen them fall. Maybe their blood wouldn't have stained their shoes and hands.

But they couldn't. They couldn't remember how to breathe.

He remembered like it was yesterday; that was the _only_ thing out of his past that he _can _remember, yet the only thing he would pay anything to be free of the horrible images.

If he had a life before that night, it was gone forever from his memories.

_Flash! Flash! Fire! Fire! _

He remembers that Daddy fell first.

The Scarf got dirty. Daddy loved The Scarf so, so much. He never let it get dirty, ever.

_Daddy….Neck… scream…thud…_

_Mommy…chest….thud…._

The most shrill, pain filled screams his ears could ever hear. Screams that wake him up in the dead hours of the night, ring out to him, and at unexpected, random moments in the middle of the day, when he is alone, quiet, with nothing and no one around him to block out the flashbacks. He _hates_ being alone; it reminds him of all the countless days he waited by himself in alleyways; cold, helpless, hungry, for Mako to come back. Screams, that remind him when he hears someone cry out in pain, or a little kid in the park sob as he trips and falls, only be comforted by parents that will never leave-those cries intermix with his and Mako's and his Mommy and Daddy's, and it's like it's happening all over again. It only takes a second-one sound or sight, one smell, one feeling- to make all the pain come back to him in a flash.

That's why it was so hard to be positive and happy. But he _had_ to. For Mako and for himself. He just _had_ to. He didn't know how else to fight it.

_Thud….thud…_

Agony.

They didn't get up. They never moved again.

The loudest _thuds _in his entire life, as if they both weighed ten tons, and weren't lifeless.

Then…

_silence._

The loudest, most horrible sickening kind of silence that makes the ears bleed. So, so _silent_, like the seconds when you hold your breath, waiting for a bomb to go off; his heart was a drum in his chest.

_He had woken up this morning like the happiest kid in the world. Waking Mako up first from the room they shared, then running, running, running, to Mommy and Daddy's room, jumping on top of them to wake them up because it was his sixth birthday and birthday boys could eat cake for breakfast, and open presents, and Mommy and Daddy had said they could do something special for him today because being six meant you were a big boy and-_

Everything was silent.

_Happy birthday _

_to you…_

He couldn't breathe. They weren't moving.

_Happy birthday _

_to you…_

Evil laughter.

_Happy sixth birthday_

_to Bolin…._

Pain. So much pain.

And Blood.

_Happy birthday_

_to you!_

_You're six now, Bolin!_

Red Blood. Staining his shoes.

And silence.

The whole world was silent.

Until he started to scream.

_"Noooo! M-MOMMY! D-D-DADDY! _Please_, get up! You said birthdays were happy! Mako! Mako, they're not getting up! Mako, what's happening?!" _

_But Mako wasn't answering him. He wasn't moving; just staring ahead, in a daze, his face contorted with agony, in a total state of numbness. Bolin was the one moving left and right, screaming, crying, begging, pleading. He was barely aware that the monster of a man had disappeared; all that mattered was how much blood there was everywhere and that he was now _stepping_ in it, and that no matter how hard he shook his mommy and daddy's arms with all his might…..they still didn't move._

_What was left of their skin, was charred, blistered raw; he didn't care that the bubbled flesh stung his hands as he continued to beg and shake them, he didn't care about anything except _why weren't they moving?

_"I didn't mean it!" he had cried, "I didn't mean to disobey; I didn't mean to not listen! I'm sorry! It's my fault! Mommy, I didn't mean to be a bad boy- I just didn't want to get wet! I sorry I didn't listen! Daddy!? Daddy, you can punish me- I don't care! I don't care that it's my birthday; you can take my presents away and give them to Mako! Just please get up! PLEASE! Mommy!" _

_He pulled on his dad's hair, "Daddy, Daddy, please, it's me, open your eyes! Me and Mako are okay, just wake up!," hitting his chest, and pulled at his mother's hands until his hurt. "MOMMY! MOMMY!"_

_But nothing was happening._

_His throat closed, breath not wanting to come out. He could feel the birthday cake coming back up, threatening to spill out onto the ground._

_Birthday cake._

_Crimson on his shaking, little hands, that had just held Mommy's an hour ago as they sang him "Happy Birthday," and Mommy and Daddy and Mako had each gavin him two kisses on his cheeks to equal six years._

_He would never be able to see their faces again, never be able to get hugs and kisses._

"You mean….this whole cake is for me? I was a good boy? Does this mean I get a stuffed platypus-bear?!"

"Of course, sweetie! And…maaayyybbeee! It's you sixth birthday! You're a big boy now, and this day is a day just for you, just like Mako's is for him! Go on, make a wish!"

_He must have made a bad wish, a really bad wish. This had to be all his fault because everything was _perfect _just an hour ago and….and…._

_He didn't know why the world was spinning. _

_He closed his eyes; tried to wake up like Daddy had told him when he was having a bad dream, so when he opened them again, Daddy could come and hug him and tell him everything was alright._

"Daddy, you and Mommy will never leave me, right? You'll be here forever? _Forever_, forever? Like for a ba….ba_…bazillion_ years?"

"Forever and ever and _ever_, my little turtle-duck. Until the end of time, I promise."

_Opened them._

_Closed._

_Opened._

_Nothing changed._

_"MAKO! Mako, this isn't funny! Mako, why aren't you saying anything!? Make them listen, make them wake up!_

_But Mako wasn't moving. Just shaking, shaking, shaking, as tears poured silently down his face, staring blankly at them, murmuring, "No…no…no…"_

_No…_

_Bolin didn't know what to do. He was begging, pleading. Bolin was always so good, good, good..._

_He had thought he had been such a good boy…he had thought he had made a good wish…_

_Then he exploded._

_"NO! NO, YOU PROMISED YOU"D ALWAYS BE THERE! Mommy, Daddy, please….you promised me, Daddy…You _promised_…."_

_And the six-year-old caved in on himself, a crumpled, defeated mess, sobbing in a ball between their bodies. He heard movement; for a minute the boy was hopeful- but then he saw Mako from the crack in between blood stained fingers. His face looked- the younger boy couldn't describe it. A flooding river that was trying to turn into an emotionless mask. He looked older allready- a man's face in an eight-year old body._

_He would never forget the look on his brother's face at the moment. He wasn't Mako. He was something else, something terrifying._

_Mako said nothing. Doesn't yell and scream at him, doesn't blame him like he thought he would._

_Mako just looks at him, grabs the scarf from their father's neck- carefully unwinding the crimson material that is the same color as the blood, yet still smells like the garlic that he had in his komodo-sausages for dinner not even a half hour earlier. _

_He almost vomits as his older brother delicately puts the fabric around his neck._

_"Mako…." He choked out, "Say something….Th-they're….Are- are they d-d….? I want them to wake up! Why won't Mommy and Daddy wake up!?"_

_He couldn't even say it._

_He couldn't understand why Mako wasn't crying anymore- but later he will realize he was trying to be strong, and in hours, days, and for years to come, there would be nothing but tears, and he wished that somehow, the tears could put the fire out._

_Mako's eyes are unrecognizable, but he takes his hand in his. He swallows, painful. "I'm never, ever going to leave you, Bolin. You're my little brother."_

_"B-b-but w-w-w…what about, M-mommy and Daddy…?"_

_Mako's eyes get misty and he looks away from him._

_Then, in the most pained voice ever, a chill that will echo in his ears at the most unexpected moments to this day, he whispers," _They're…they're gone."

Gone.

_Then, somehow, in some way, Mako gets him on his back, piggy back style, and scarf tight around his neck. He's walking him away from it all, and Bolin doesn't care where, but all he knows is that for a long time, they both forget what happiness feels like. And he thinks, for a moment, that maybe this day is a mistake, maybe it's not his anniversary for his sixth year after birth, because they both died that day with them._

He didn't think he'd ever know what happiness felt like again after that horrid night.

….But somehow, he's managed to keep a grasp on it. He thinks it's the feeling of knowing he'll always have his brother.

Fire burning his mother and father's bodies to a crisp. Flesh can peel away at a horridly fast pace.

He's not strong enough to admit it, but any fire that isn't Mako's terrifies him. And when Mako got his bending a year after they were killed, Mako hated it-but Bolin was so _scared_. _Scared of his own brother- _and he hated feeling that way because he knows it wasn't Mako's fault, and he loved his brother more than anything. And even though he knew Mako would never hurt him, and that the next winter would be so much more bearable because Mako could keep them warm and fight the cold and they could actually cook meals…but, for the longest time, no matter how hard he tried not to, he couldn't look at Mako's fire without picturing _His_ evil fire, and Mommy and Daddy burning.

But he also knew Mako did, too; he knew it must have been so much harder for Mako to wield the same power that destroyed their lives. And Bolin hadn't known if he was going to be a bender or not, had gotten his bending at _eleven_- so _late_ that they had been both so _sure_ that he was a non-bender like Mommy and Daddy had been. When he was little- too young to see how irrational his assumptions were that if Mako was a firebender, then he either had fire like his brother or he simply didn't have bending- he tried to copy Mako's stances, hoping it would just come and one day fire would dance on his fingers; yet silently praying for "_Earth, please, Earth" _because_ he was scared of the fire._ But the only reason why he tried stances and took notice of how other firebenders did their forms was because he _needed_ Mako to be _proud _of him and let him help with everything, and he didn't feel like Mako could ever be proud of him if was a useless non-bender. He just needed to show Mako he _could help_! He wasn't a baby anymore- he could help, he could, he could, he _could!_

At age ten, he- and secretly Mako, because he didn't want his little brother to be upset- were doubting he would ever bend anything, but if Bolin was eventually a bender, he prayed to the Spirits not to have the both of them be fire; he couldn't be a firebender, too, just couldn't!

_Earth_, he begged, _Earth_, and as he got older, he realized "_Duh!"-_ with much shame that he didn't realize it before, feeling like he somehow hadn't been honoring his mother- yes, his _mother, _he remembers this time- and her side of the family heritage. That maybe that was what he would be, even if Mommy and Daddy had been both non-benders. So that was the only other genetic and spiritual element that made sense, and he certainly looked it. _Earth._ How cruel would the Spirits have to be make two, broken, little orphan boys both firebenders, when fire was the thing that broke their lives in the first place?

Surely he couldn't be _that _cursed.

_Earth._

Why had no one told him that Earth was his other option? It wasn't too late to bend, right? Some people were just really late bloomers- at least that's what Mako said. But Mako had also told him he would love him just the same, even if he was a non-bender. But, did Shady Shin and them think he was stupid? Did they just think he didn't have it in him? People _had_ told him more than once that he acted like an Airbender; but they meant in insultingly, because they thought Airbenders were weak. They always made fun of him for being too nice and kind and not having a backbone, and time and time again, he was always told he would _never_ make it on his own without Mako, and if it wasn't for his brother he would of died so long ago.

And it was true. Very, very, true. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt or piss him off.

He needed to be useful and help Mako. He couldn't just be the weak, little non-bender brother who couldn't do any work and was forced to wait out his days in alleyways, wondering when his brother would be back.

No. He needed to live for something.

No more. He would _not be useless anymore_! He was ten, almost eleven, but he would_ make_ himself a bender. He may not _look_ like fire, but he had half fire in his blood; and although that wasn't the better half, and at times, he would admit to himself he was ashamed as to what part of his ancestors had done to the world for one hundred years- he still had _passion_, and he would _make_ the Earth move.

For Mommy. For Daddy.

For Mako.

With stories of Toph Beifong as a role model and inspiration- the blind Earthbending legend who helped save the world with Avatar Aang- one day, he copied a Triad Earthbender's stances from afar. ( He knew if he stole an Earthbending scroll, Mako would find it and scold him) He would practice every day for weeks, Mako gently telling him not to get his hopes up, saying it could never change how much he loved him if he could bend or not. Benders usually knew if they could bend or not, just a _feeling._ The ages that bending manifested ranged from about five to nine, and any older, it most likely just wasn't in them. And they had seen some pretty odd mixes of benders; Waterbenders as pale as snow, blue-eyed Earthbenders, people who looked purely Fire Nation bending water.

Until one day, when Mako was in trouble, getting beat up by some thugs, it _clicked. He finally had the feeling. _Or more so,_ vibration. _

The ground spoke to him, and he commanded it. He could feel some…some…_connection._ Concentrated on the ground underneath the two older boys' feet. He brought his foot up, just like had had been practicing, slammed his foot down, and pushed his hands out. The earth slid and rumbled, did what he told it to do, and both boys were pushed away from Mako and flew, flipped over on to their backs with a groan.

_"Haha! Yes, YES! I did it! I'm an Earthbender! I'M AN EARTHBENDER!" He screamed, "WOOOHHHHOOOO_!" _and he did a little dance._

The boys, still knocked out, and, Mako, stunned, looked up at Bolin with a scratched up face and black eye, "_Bo….that was….you're…."_ and he didn't even have to finish, because Mako's face shown with so much pride and love that he knew, somehow, he had finally made Mako proud, he had shown them all he could do it. And somehow, maybe they would both be okay.

He couldn't stop smiling, his heart hammering in his chest from happiness. "_You're okay, right, Mako? Please tell me you're okay."_

_"I've never been better." He said sincerely, and gave Bolin the biggest hung ever, "I am so proud of you."_

That was one of his best memories ever.

But there were so many more horrible ones.

He'll never forget the smell of burning flesh. Or just how truly crimson blood can be when it is pooling at the feet of him and his brother, staining their shoes. He knows just how fast a fire can kill someone. How gruesome a scorched corpse can be. How lifeless dead eyes can be while looking at you and still staring into _your_ soul; unblinking by damned. Emerald and ember lost their shine when they weren't able to show _their_ soul through their windows anymore.

This is one of the many haunting reasons why he has so many endlessly sleepless nights, so many nightmares- but he knows for a fact Mako does, too. He can hear him at night, yelling, crying, and most nights Bolin goes to comfort him just like Mako does for him. But other nights, when he just doesn't have the strength to get up and see his big brother's broken face, and wipe away anymore tears, Bolin just stays in bed, facing the wall, listening-just like he used to do when they were on the streets, yet now in the safety of the Arena attic- trying not to make a sound, because he knows Mako feels guilty every time he wakes him up and doesn't want him to worry. But this causes him to feel selfish, because 98% of his nightmares, if doesn't tell Mako he is fine and to go back to bed, his brother will instantly be at his side, and he just doesn't think he is worth the worry.

But mostly he cries because he can't remember their faces. He hears voices and laughter and a man and women and a red scarf, and sees Mako…but it's like their faces are smears and smudged out with a cloth over them. He can't see. Can't remember what their faces were or how bright their eyes shone, or how big their father's grin was when he laughed. Mako does, Mako remembers and he tells him stories when he asks and feels depressed.

Bolin doesn't even know which one was earth or fire anymore. Dad must have been fire, because of the red scarf right? But when he actually asked Mako, using those exact words one night as they both sat on the couch, Mako just looked at him, grimly, jaw hard, no answer. It made him think he was wrong, that it was the opposite. He thought his brother was going to yell at him, even hit him; it was that terrifying, and in that moment, he thought he actually made Mako hate him. But his brother just ignored the question, looked at him again, his face back to normal, and said he was going to make them some tea.

He knows they were both non-benders; unfortunately, if they weren't, maybe they would be alive today. But he can't recall which was which. Was their father from Fire Nation descent or was that Mom? Was it your mother who had green eyes? Does Mako see her whenever he looks at you, or do you resemble your father more, with your wavy hair? What were they're names? No pictures or anything to look back on- just a red scarf that Mako had to peel from your father's burnt body.

It had been his _sixth _birthday.

1,2,3,4,5,….6

_"Make a wish, birthday boy!"_

_I wish you would come back. That's all I want. Or I wish it was me instead, not you, so Mako can be happy and have a good life._

That was what he silently wished every year…but of course, wishes never come true.

He knows just because Mako tries to sing him that Spirit-awful song every year, that it will never make his birthday any "happier." That just because you are supposed to make a wish, doesn't mean it is going to magically make his parents alive again. He tried that when he was seven; some older kid tauntingly convincing him that having a birthday gave you some magic wishing powers that guaranteed any wish to come true.

It was the one year anniversary; seven years old was a lucky number; it was obvious what he wanted- _needed._

So he made his wish…and he had waited.

And waited.

Had gone back to the house that they'd sworn never to go back to- the one that they had to escape from when after one month, the landlords had come and tried to take them away to an orphanage, inevitable to be separated; but they had gotten away before they had gotten caught by escaping out a back window, a blanket and few cans of food wrapped in a basket.

That day he waited. Had called out, peaking inside every window, and searching the yard. Denying every part of him that told him to remember what he had witnessed exactly a year before, what Mako had told him. Because it was his seventh birthday and birthdays were supposed to be _happy,_ so that meant his wishing powers _had_ to work just like the kid said.

_They just had to_.

If he had known about wishing powers last year, he could've made Mommy and Daddy better and Mako wouldn't be so unhappy. So now he was going fix everything; bring Mommy and Daddy back and make Mako happy again and then they would be a family once more!

He searched.

And called.

He tried to go inside, but it was locked for some reason and knocking on it for five minutes didn't make it open. He went around back, but the broken window had been replaced.

_They weren't home._

He waited around that house. Rang, rang, raaaaannnngggg the doorbell.

_Maybe he just hadn't wished hard enough…_

He still waited.

Until Mako had somehow, in some way, tracked him down to that spot hours later, finding him in a shuddering, crying, mess on the front steps, murmuring how his birthday powers didn't work and his wish didn't come true. Mako had to explain how wishes really didn't work that way, that there was no such thing as luck or magic…or _hope_; and that the cruel world didn't care about them, they could only care for each other. That being dead meant they stayed dead, and that a year ago from that day when they were killed could not bring them back, no matter how hard they wished.

_"Happy seventh birthday, Bolin."_ He had remembered Mako saying quietly, because this day was not happy in the slightest, and nothing was born on this day-only death.

And he wonders for the first time in his short seven years, why this day is supposed to be happy. Because you are only going to die anyway, another year sooner, so what is there to celebrate?

_"They're with the Spirits now, aren't they, Mako? That's what Mommy and Daddy said happened to people to who are gone. Like what happened to Grandpa when I was five? That's why Daddy was so sad, right?"_

_Mako just looked at him, and he could tell he was going to cry when he said, "I'm not so sure I believe in the Spirits anymore, Bo. I don't know. But I know Momma and Poppa can still see us, they're still here, so we both have to keep being good boys for them, okay?"_

_"Okay, Mako. I love you."_

_"I love you more."_

He never asked Mako how to found him there, out of all the places he knows he must have looked that day. He doesn't even know how he himself remembered how to get there. He doesn't know how Mako ever thought he'd ever go back there again; but he's sure as hell's grateful Mako is as smart as he is. He would've never thought to look for Mako there because he'd never think Mako would ever want anything to do with that place ever again- and he sure barely had the strength to go back on his own. He doesn't even know how he remembered to get there, but he knows if Mako hadn't found him, that he would be huddled there all night, totally lost as how to get back to their shelter.

_They're just getting cake,_ he remembered telling himself, _they're just taking a reaaallllyy long time to get me birthday cake and then everything will be okay again!_

To this day, he never saw that kid again; he'd bet money that Mako found him and beat him up.

There are no happy endings. Wishing and praying to the Spirits doesn't make any difference because Mako said the Spirits never listen to kids like them. They were both on thier own. Just because he wore The Scarf and tried to talk to Daddy through it, it didn't mean that Daddy could hear or even see him.

Alone.

He loathes his birthday. The only reason why he doesn't regret being born, and the only reason why either of them hadn't tried to kill themselves when they were younger when they had obviously both been horribly depressed, they both know, was for each other. In his most darkest days, the most bitter, deepest parts of his mind, when you peel away the optimistic façade, he would envy the young corpses that littered in corners and against garbage cans, because no matter how Mako had tried to clamp his hand shut over his green eyes, it didn't hide them, and they would never move again, just like Mommy and Daddy. Nor did covering his ears with his hands drown out the agonized screams and miserable sobs of the dying and the lonely and the attacked, mingled in with their parents'screams.

No matter how disfigured the lost souls looked, no matter how much they smelled and no matter how they had suffered in life, they were now at peace-but that didn't make it any easier to turn his eyes away and try to suppress vomit. One kind of animal or another would usually pick the corpses apart within a week, and very unfourtionaity, that was a good way to kill the animal for dinner before it started to do any eating of its own. He's learned not to think about where the food came from when he was desperate enough- he just needed the ach to stop. He and his brother just wanted to be at peace with their parents, just wanting the suffering to stop. But they refused to give up for each other. They needed to stay alive to the other one could keep going, no matter how depressed they both were and no matter how much neither of them cared to live. They were never going to leave each other; they had promised their parents, each other and themselves.

It had always been so easy to lie. Well, about _certain _things, because most people would say he was a horrible liar- not that he tried to lie a lot- and he agreed. It had always been easy to lie, but not in the way most people think- he had his own way, but a way that never hurt anyone but himself. He just had to make it into something that he could believe, or an opinion. It got easier as he got older, too. He trained himself. He had to put himself to good use in those very early years when Mako made him stay in the allies all day and look for food, not being allowed to come with him to wherever he went to find jobs. And frankly, as he got older, he realized; he stopped begging to come with him, and stopped thinking that Mako must just not want him to have any fun; as he grew to learn it was best not to ask, because it was probably something not very pleasant, something Mako was ashamed of, coming back to their little shelter all black and blue, all beat up, having to do with the Triads, something not totally against the law, but most likely not morally right. He understood and Mako knew he understood, for at a far too young age, his innocence ripped out of him no matter how much Mako tired to preserve it; Bolin could see. And then he got older, and there was no choice but for Bolin to have to help, too.

"Running numbers" Mako used to tell him in his younger years, always a little excuse, hiding the truth. That was _Mako's_ way of lying. But the truth was inevitable to be found out about the Triads when Bolin reached the age of ten; Lightning Bolt Zolt deeming him old enough to be able to know about the dirty work, saying he had to do the equal of what Mako did.

Ten- years old and doing bad things. Innocence was truly bliss. He wished he could stay at the age of five forever.

Of course, Mako would try everything in his power to make sure his brother didn't have to be forced into that life. To make sure they would never be labeled as criminals. It didn't work most of them time- there was only so much he could lie and shelter him from. He's gotten his first of about four in total mug-shots when he was nine, that being the first time he was arrested, and Mako's definitely had more mug-shots and overnight stays, starting when he was about nine, also.

Seriously, how cruel can you be to arrest a nine-year- old? Cops have very small hearts.

He hates, hates, _hates,_ fears, fear, _fears,_ cops. They meant nothing but worrying, pain and trouble. Chief Bei Fong is no exception. He wonders if she knows who they are, preys that she doesn't, for if she does, she might've told Tenzin.

But _anything_ was better than being sent to an Orphanage. _Anything_. That was a street rat's worst nightmare.

Yes, Bolin wasn't aware of _everything. _But he wasn't blind or oblivious- he understood how bad the circumstances were. He saw, and he knew.

He just tried to smile through the pain. For Mako.

Always for Mako.

Mako had teased him once, saying that when Bolin was seven that he had asked Mako how numbers "could run." Bolin had said that the numbers were running away from Mako. And Mako had chucked and said he was called the "Number Catcher" and that was why he carried around pieces of paper with scribbled on numbers and equal signs and check signs by people's names- and that made sense to a seven-year old; Mako trying to turn everything into an innocent game for him, or Mako just trying to do boring math that only big boys could do. Luckily Bolin was too young to read them and understand what they meant…but when he was of age and everything started to click, when he understood what the Triple Threats really were and just what being a "member" of them really meant…he just didn't know what to say, too many emotions mixing in with him, and Mako couldn't hide his shame at all, all though he didn't blame Mako for anything.

It wasn't funny anymore. Nothing was.

Even now Bolin knows one of Mako's biggest regrets is never getting them a good education; Bolin feels so stupid whenever there are words and signs and books that he just… _can't understand_; reading being nearly impossible for him. Being illiterate is one of his many insecurities. He doesn't know how hold a pen, the symbols getting all mixed up, not making sense. Mako tries to help him and read things to him, but it doesn't help, just makes him feel so, so stupid and he wants to be able to do it himself, but it's just no use.

And the fact that Jinora, a ten-year-old, is an avid reader and historian lover just makes him being dummer than her all the more painful.

She had wanted him to read her and Ikki a bed time story from one of her vast collection of novels one night. He really wanted to play with the girls- but it was nearly their bed time and they couldn't get hyper. He just wanted to help Pema out any way he could. He had instantly offered to make up a story from his imagination to humor them like Mako used to do for him countless times, not thinking they would make him actually _read_ to them. What little kid likes being read stories? But of course, they had wined and complained and Jinora- who was supposed to be the mature one had just given him this _puppy dog _look that destroyed him- he just had to try. If he didn't, the girls would be mad and that was the last thing he wanted. He had sighed and tried to muster up some confidence that was sure to be shattered with the first page. Suddenly regretting saying "goodnight" to the girls, and stepping foot in their room- he realized that his lack of a comprehension and reading was bothering him way too much. It's wasn't that he was afraid the girls would judge him, because they were only seven and ten, -Well, no, he was a little afraid because he was worried Jinora, or Ikki (being the blabber mouth that she was), would tease him and tell Mako and then Mako would feel even more guilty and he just couldn't have his brother feel any guiltier about it. He decided that this was a situation where he just couldn't win.

Bitterly and self-consciously, he picked up the smallest book he could find and decided he was not going to be put down by some little kids.

Mustering up some dignity, he opened the first page of _"The Tales of the Kyoshi Warriors"_ and got only about a few sentences in when the words started to become really…big…and descriptive… And symbols were too complicated and then he just…couldn't make sense of it. He began to wonder how Mako was any better at him at this, not by much though, he knew. What would it be like to be smart, to go to school?

Turning the pages, quickly, he hunted for pictures, preying he could show them the Warriors themselves, the Island…a fan… _something._

"What are you doing? You skipped all the good parts!" Ikki whined. " Start from the beginning!"

Inwardly groaned; he should have known there wouldn't be any stupid pictures...! Who liked this boring stuff anyway?

He could barely write his own name.

He had five symbols in it, right?

Lightning Bolt Zolt's words hit him suddenly, telling his eleven-year old self how things were going to go in the Triads, now that he was old enough, and had finally gotten his bending that year,_" That ain't what we do in this life, kiddy. You be crazy if ya think we gunna teach you any "school" stuff. No one cares what your name is, so why ya got to write it? You wanna be smart? Then listen to me! You ain't gunn' survive by writing ya name and getting all smart. You know now since you was six how cruel the streets are. All ya gotta do is learn how the numbers work and stop asking so many questions; that's the kinda math ya gunna know- just ask ya big bro; that how he been feeding ya all this time. Don't think about what you coulda had cause that's never gonna happen and no one cares when you're on the streets, got it, runt? Mommy and Daddy ain't ever coming to save ya, no matter how much ya beg, and one day, probably sooner than later, Mako's gonna have his life beaten from him, so ya better be able to break some bones to save your sorry ass, you hear? So you better go make those rounds or the boss is gunna punish ya, and ya know what happened to the last poor chum who didn't finish the job!"_

He was truly pathetic.

He just couldn't do it. He had to put the book down. He gave a long sigh and found the girls looking at him funny.

He knew what was coming.

Inevitable innocent question were fired at his pride.

"What's the matter, Bolin? Can't you read? Didn't your mommy ever read to you?" Ikki asked innocently. "It's okay if you're stupid. You should ask your mommy to read to you some time when you go back home- it's super nice!"

"Ikki!" Jinora yelled at her, "You don't ask things like that! It's his business! Now say you're sorry!"

Ikki gave a pout, " What? All I said was his Mommy should read to him! Lots of people are stupid!"

_"Ikki!_ Spirits, _shush_!"

Ikki's words had sent a wave of pain and loss through him, so strong that he shuddered and had to shut his eyes tight to not become damp.

_Had_ his mother ever read to him? He just….he didn't know.

"Bolin?"

His eyes flew open.

Jinora must have noticed his reaction. Something in her eyes, mature beyond her years, told him she understood that she knew why he and Mako were living here temporarily. "Bolin, are you okay?" Jinora asks, "I'm sorry…Ikki didn't mean to be rude and hurt your feelings, right Ikki? She just asks too many questions and says things without thinking, and it's alright if you can't read my book…."

How would he ever get a job, be successful?! No! Zolt was wrong! He didn't know anything!

_"You stupid little _street rat!_ Get out of my way and stop asking for money! If you were smart, you'd go out and get yourself a job instead of just sitting on the street and bothering people!" the cruel businessman yelled, causing people to stare and make Bolin's face heat up in shame. The mean man, pushing him harshly, sending him to the ground. And he tried not to cry, he really had. He had tried to save his dignity, but it was broken when after the horrible man gave the money to the vender, and in return he grasped the warm, mouthwatering, beef, wrapped in silk paper, and almost mockingly, gave a disgusted face to him, still spiraled on the dirty ground, and walked off._

He almost opened his mouth to yell at Ikki, before remembering she was only seven, and he had been that little once. He had without a doubt been a curious child, too, and had asked his share of innocently rude questions, probably to Mako's demise. He didn't blame Ikki…he just wished she hadn't been right, and shoved his insecurities in his face.

He just couldn't answer that question, because the truth was too heartbreaking to say: that he could barely remember his parents faces for the life of him, or any memory for that matter. If you had asked him which was Earth Kingdom heritage and which was Fire Nation blood, he would have a pain-steakingly hard time recalling.

It just wasn't fair.

He tried to swallow- oh dear, Sprits, _not now,_ he was_ not_ going to cry no in front of the girls…

"Bolin, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Ikki said

Just like Korra had said. But she hadn't really meant it.

But Ikki was right.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." She continued innocently, " Here, you can hug my platypus-bear! His name is Nanoot! He always makes me feel better!"

_Platypus-bear._ He blinked, and then the picture was gone; a vague memory of his six-year- old self blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, silently wishing with all his might for a fluffy, new stuffed platypus-bear. But what he got that night was the death of his parents.

He gasped. No, he had tried not to cry! Oh, Sprits what was wrong with him?

He had to leave. This was too much.

All he had wanted was to say goodnight to the girls, not be riddled with shame. How was ne supposed to know that little kids liked being told bedtime stories? How was he supposed to know they liked being tucked in?

He tried his best to tuck them in, "Good night, girls." He told them quietly, "It's okay, I'm not mad at either of you, alright? Sweat dreams."

Before he could hear their response, he turned off the light and made a dash for his and Mako's room.

He's told Mako not blame himself so, so many times for getting into the Triads. It wasn't his fault. They had to, they were desperate. They would have died otherwise.

The Triads were horrible. He never, ever wants to think about them ever again.

He cherished those younger days when he thought Mako was just off having fun and he wasn't old enough to play. Ignorance was truly bliss. But there was only so much innocence a six-year-old could keep when he watched with his eight-year-old brother, their parents getting murdered right before their eyes on his sixth birthday, crimson blood spilling everywhere.

How powerful was a lie, when you were the one who knew the truth? But he had to learn to lie, as a way of protection.

In a way, he didn't see it as lying; it was a way to survive. When he was really young it started off as a policemen, social worker, even angry shop keepers, or rarely- because the common person was too consumed with their daily life to have ever wanted anything to do with a dirty, mangy, lonely little boy, but occasionally you came across the ones who had a huge, sympathy filled heart and a big enough brain to know that this little boy shouldn't be here by himself and something wasn't right- the question would be, in a variety of tones and feelings ranging from anger and disgust to gentle concern to total fake compassion, the question asked countless times, "_Where are your parents, young man?"_

And he would conceal whatever pain he was feeling and smile nonchalantly like he was just a normal kid; he would point in the direction that was the most populated, or by a store, and say something along the lines of, "_They're in the store_ _over there, getting food." _Or _"They're down the corner, they told me to wait here for my brother. He'll be out in a minute." _Or, on days when he was in the worst mood and didn't have enough energy to care enough to lie, he would say_, "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers." _and hoped they'd go away and leave him alone in his misery. He couldn't even ask them for food, because that would be a sure sign that something was wrong.

And for the most part it would work, for whatever reason, be it he was a good actor, or too cute to be homeless or too stupid people- he didn't really care why they believed him; they just had to.

And the times that they didn't- _he ran._

When he was eleven and_ finally_ got his earthbending, he would trip them to gain more distance. He would run like hell and hide until the coast was clear. And he would pray to never be found. Because if anyone suspected he was homeless, if anyone ever found out they were orphans, that was so much worse. Being found out was the worst because then they would be shipped off to orphanages- which weren't very nice places at all, though everyone thought so- and they would be separated, never to see each other again.

Often times he wondered how the person asking would react if he just told the damned truth and released the bitterness he longed to free from himself. If he just let all his anger and hatred and pain and sorrow and self-loathing out in one truth- screamed it to the world so no one would ask him that damn question anymore, yell at the top of his lungs, "_They're DEAD! A firebender killed them in front of me and my brother on my sixth birthday! Now just leave me ALONE!"_

He wished he could yell that without any consequences, be able to breathe again from the weight weighing him down- but he couldn't.

His six birthday.

He had only turned six…all he had wanted was a cake with candles to blow out so he could pretend to be a _firebender_. All he wanted was to be a big boy and have a birthday and have his family sing him a song- that was all. But he had been selfish to want that. It had been his fault for asking them to take him to his favorite restaurant, and maybe if they hadn't wasted that extra time bringing out the cake and maybe if he had actually made an important wish instead of wanting a new _stuffed platypus-bear_, then they wouldn't have had to go down that ally because it had started to rain, and then, that evil firebender wouldn't have killed them.

_"Happy Birthday, Bolin! Mommy and Daddy's little Bo is finally six years old! Blow out your candles and make a wish!"_

_"Happy birthday, little brother!"_

He should have known that it would be raining. It always rains in spring time.

It had been his sixth birthday. No wonder six was considered an unlucky number. A day that was supposed to be filled with joy and love and happiness every year as a day dedicated to him, was tainted with the horrifying nightmare of his mother and father's lifeless forms burning on the ground, shattering he and his brother's whole world, forcing them to become orphan street rats, barley living day by day.

If had been quicker to blow out those candles… if he hadn't been such a selfish little kid and didn't ask for that cake….if they had just stayed home…_if he hadn't run into that alley_…they could have survived.

If he hadn't ran into that alley.

If he hadn't ran ahead, gone _all…the way_…_around_….the corner…past the barber shop, with the yellow tinted windows….._and down, down_….the ally, so_ faaaarrr _away….when his parents had called after him…

It was his fault.

Late at night, their voices ring out to him, hauntingly, and he had always been such a good boy, but that _one_ time he hadn't listened because he was the Birthday Boy, cost them their lives

His entire fault and no matter how many times Mako tried to tell him otherwise, he would always know it was. Another year older for him was just another year gone by that their faces and laughter would fade away even more from his memory.

He led his parents to their doom. He killed his own mother and father. He was unlovable.

Unlovable. An _unlovable burden._

_"That's too bad, kid,"_ the Triad member mocked young Mako, spitting on Bolin's feet like he wasn't even a person, "_With a burden like him, you won't long. I wouldda ditched the runt a long ago if I were you. Could actually be someone without him."_

And nothing else, no other horrible names he could ever be called, no matter what injuries he would get or how loud his stomach would cry in agony, night after night, could ever hurt him as much as the truth that those mocking words held. He could still remember it like it was yesterday, and the truth behind them, the possibility of it happening, would destroy and haunt him like no other.

Bolin couldn't count the number of time this conversation had gone through his head when he was younger:

_But Mako would never leave! ….Right? He had promised! He Promised!_

_So then…why isn't he back yet?! He should have been here hours ago! Is he hurt? Did he get in trouble? Should I go looking for him? No, he said to stay here because it's dangerous! But where is he?! How do I find him? What if he needs me?'_

He wants to ask them if they still love him. But he knows they wouldn't. How could they? He's unworthy. It's his fault they died. He just wants to see them. Just to tell them how much he needs them and how so, so, sorry he is.

But they're dead, so he never will.

They're dead.

He wants to tell Mako that he wouldn't be surprised if he hated his freak- show brother for killing their parents.

_He_ was the one that ran ahead, around the corner, all…. the… way… down into the horrible alleyway because he hadn't wanted to get wet, because Mommy said it was so easy to get sick if you were out in the rain, and he didn't want to get sick on his sixth birthday because Mako had told him that big boys never get sick. _Him- it had been him- _who had ran ahead on his own, leaving his parents and brother's side despite knowing he wasn't supposed to, ( _Mommy and Daddy had told him again and again that some parts of the city weren't safe)_, forcing Mako to run along after him, - this being the first time that Mako's protective role as an older brother had been put to the test, because he had ran right after Bolin, trying to get him back- and sequentially, their mother and father walking faster behind them to see were their two little boys were going.

_"Bolin, honey, come back! Stay with us- it's not safe!"_ His father's voice had rung out, more powerful than any flame.

Not knowing they were being watched, and walking right into their deaths.

Their mother's usual happy voice growing thin with worry, _"Mako, tell your brother to listen and get back here! Birthday Boy, it's just rain, you turtle-duck! Bolin, come back, or you're going to bed as soon as you get home, I don't care if it's your birthday!"_

_"Bolin! Mommy says your gonna get in trrrrooouuublllleee! She says I'm gunna get all your toys!"_

He had heard them- oh, he had heard them clearly- but something, some force made him keep going and going, closer to that alleyway. A feeling that he still hadn't forgotten to this day- yet he doesn't know what he would call this strange feeling that compelled him to ignore his parent's warnings and keep walking, even if he could describe it.

If he hadn't let go of Mommy's hand and forced them to fallow him in the _opposite direction of home…._

He had always been such a good boy. Such a good, good boy.

They had _called out_ to him- _warned_ him to come back, damn it! Agni, why hadn't he _friggin' listened? _

He had always been such a good boy, done whatever he was told, always a "little angle."

But he didn't listen. He just kept walking farther away, until he was in the alley, nice and dry.

Not knowing _he_- _the monster_- was watching them all, was right behind him, in the shadows.

That was then one day that was crystal clear in his mind that he could remember about his parents, as if it happened yesterday. Nothing before that.

He's tried and tried.

But…nothing.

Until today. Until today with the erhu, he could remember his mother guiding his hand along, playing it for him, the melody in the music dancing off the walls, filling his soul.

And it had scared him, that sudden sensation of memory that the erhu brought him. It had been so sudden and unusual and powerful, that he didn't know what to do. He just knew he had to get away, he just had to run, because he didn't deserve those memories, that unexplained sensation and caress of love, and if his mother and father could see him now, with all the bad things he's had to do in his life, they would turn their heads away, ashamed.

Because he hadn't listened. Because it was his fault they were dead.

Mako would never understand. Mako was the savior, the fighter, the caregiver, the hero and role model. Mako was never the one to get into trouble; Mako was always the one saving him. What had he ever done for his brother? Mako was the worthy son. Mako was the one they would love.

Not him.

Mako hadn't been the one to disobey and run down the street, into the ally.

Mako hadn't been the one to kill his own parents.

Mako wasn't the one who was cursed.

It was him. All him.

Because he led his family chasing after him in the _complete opposite direction from home_, down into the parts of the city that were _infamously bad_, so very bad, bad, bad, where no one should ever go; he had ran ahead, had gone _all…the way_…_around_….the corner…past the barber shop, with the yellow tinted windows….._and down, down_….the ally, so_ faaaarrr _away…

Triad Territory.

_Bolin, come back come back COME BACK, not safe not safe not safe…_

_Bolin, where are you?_

_Mommy, Daddy, where are you? I'm scared!_

He had relived that moment so many times in his mind, so many sleepless nightmares, but he never did stop, always did the same thing, and then, eventually, it would be the heat of the flames, the blood on his hands, his horrified screams to Mommy and Daddy- or Mako's screams, in reality trying to calm him down to wake up, that would make him snap his eyes open in a terrified, shaking, sweating mess_._

He wants to ask Mako if he blames him, but he's too scared to ask because he knows he does, he just _knows_.

No matter how many times he's tried, he could never muster up the strength to ask Mako if he blamed him, hated him for it. He just figured he hated himself so much, how could Mako not?

Mako had saved him countless times, again and again from threats, so who was going to save him from himself? How was he ever going to save him from himself, when he had no idea who he was to begin with?

Who was he? A little boy who just suddenly stopped going to school and living in his house with his older brother when his parents were murdered in front of the two boys on his sixth birthday? A boy cursed and doomed to danger anymore he ever dared to love?

If "Bolin" meant _"precious" _and _"gentle rain", _then why was he the opposite? Because he had been called so many horrid things in his short years that weren't anywhere near _"precious", _and the rain inside him was more like an uncontrollable storm, a force that always attracted danger to him like a magnet.

And it wasn't like always went looking for trouble- except maybe that time a few months ago he accepted to do some dirty work for Shady Shin in exchange for money to keep them in the tournament, thus letting them continue to live at the area. He will admit a part of him always wanted to do it purposely against Mako's wishes, just to feel….rebellious? Badass? Because he felt angry and jealous of his brother? Yes. But those had been very bad feelings and morals and he will always regret it. But the fact was the he had always been a danger magnet- Mako had even said it.

_With a burden like him you won't last long. I would have ditched the runt a long time ago if I were you. Could actually be someone without him._

_Burden._

_Ditch._

Every day Bolin used to fear that Mako would finally realize he wasn't worth the effort and leave him to go have a life of his own. He feared and he feared, and every second later that Mako wasn't back when he promised he would be, every extra agonizing second that he was alone was like another one of his heart beats slowly fading. And he was torn between wondering whether his brother was alright and if he could go help him, or if Mako had just simply left and gave up caring for him; and in the back of his mind he always knew, that if one day Mako did leave him alone in an ally, that he deserved it, so as much as it would pain his soul, that would never able to come up with enough strength or reason to try to beg for him back, because Mako didn't need him, and he would only be a burden holding him back, so why should he ruin Mako's already horrible life?

_"Bolin…why do you always get in these stupid situations? I just want you to be safe, and I tell you to stay put for a reason, because I don't want to lose you."_

_"I'm sorry, Mako! It's just happens! I don't mean to cause trouble! Honest! It just….just always finds me! Everyone always picks on me! It's like I'm cursed."_

_Cursed._

_Bad luck magnet._

But then, like the shifting of the moon, his sense would return when Mako did, and he would realize how stupid he was for ever doubting his big brother.

But every evening, if he hadn't gotten lost, or arrested or hurt or beaten up, Mako would always find his way back to Bolin, with food, or hopelessly empty handed again, but always with a smile on his face for Bolin, always a hug and a story to tell, and those things would make Bolin thank the Spirits for his brother.

And a cause of this disobedience, for years to come, would instinctively force Bolin to stop and listen to whenever his brother or anyone ever gave him instructions or called his name, never ever wanting to bare the risk again of not listening again and causing something horrible and life threatening upon any one else. One of the reasons he was such a goody good- unless he thought it was against someone's best interest, if you told him to do something, he would do it-or something terrible could happen. He didn't trust himself to make his own dissections; couldn't, or always, time and time again, he would mess up-and mess up _bad_. And that had proved to be the way to go, because whenever he didn't listen to Mako, or did something he wanted that he didn't know for sure was either right or stupid- bad things happened. They really did. Evidence enough was on Mako's skin in the form or scars from countless fights and beatings in his defense.

_"I'll just stand over here….quietly…in silence…"_ Because that would be the safest thing to do. And no matter how childish his remark had sounded, he had meant it wholeheartedly- he really had. He had tried to say his fair share of comfort, of reassurance, and it shouldn't have been surprised that he had been shut down from everyone in the form of angry glares- nothing new. Then why did it hurt so much more that time…? Because…Korra had been there that time to witness it. He had failed Korra when she was at her lowest. And now he seemingly didn't take the tragedy of her bending loss seriously enough. Why was he so awkward with people, why was it so hard for him to say the right thing? Why was Mako everything so perfect, and every great quality Mako had, he couldn't attain no matter how hard he tried?

Maybe that was just it. Maybe he really _was_ a shadow, really was as invisible as he always felt, because _he_ was the one who was supposed to die that night. And that was why, no matter how they called to him, he still kept going soooo….farrr…_.around_ the corner…. and down- down-_down_ into the alleyway. Fate was meant to have him killed because he was so useless anyway, and now that he was a still alive, his punishment was that he had become a shadow.

He was the one who was _supposed_ to die, not his parents.

He was the one who _wanted _to die. Who _should've_ died.

Then…why?

The firebender had had all the time in the world to kill him before his parents and Mako came to his rescue. He could've done it quick and easy, leaving his family only minutes later to find his charred remains.

He could've.

But he didn't.

So, then, why had it been _them?_

_Because he had wanted money that they hadn't had? Because he was just that horrid of a monster?_

He didn't know what was wrong with him. But over the years, he came to realize and except that he was cursed. That he would always be a danger to those he loved. It was best just to keep his mouth shut and fade into the background because he couldn't risk messing things up.

He really didn't want to have to name any of the number of times he had messed up by not listening to Mako….but if he had to, one of them being getting kidnapped by chi-blockers and nearly having his bending being taken forever by Amon would be a conseqence of not listening.

Because he was never serious enough. Because he always had bad ideas.

He was so stupid! Why had he listened to Shady Shin?! Was he just that desperate to prove his worth?

Yes. Yes, he was so desperate.

So he knew to always listen, because his ideas were always horrible and led to bad things. He couldn't afford to be a leader- not when he was cursed.

Not a day goes by that he doesn't wish he hadn't listened to his parents.

He can never see their faces, but their screaming voices are clear as day, always like ghosts.

_"Bolin, come back!"_

_And then, something moved from behind him. Something, glowing and flaming and laughing…_

_"Bolin, __**watch out! BEHIND YOU!"**_

_"Well, well, well…look what we have here. Say kid, wanna know what it feels like to burn? Because you're on my turf, and you know what happens when you come on my turf uninvited? You burn and die. Unless, you wanna fight me for it!"_

_" Ahhhh! Mommy, Daddy, HELP!"_

"_Get away from him! Leave our son alone!"_

_And the futile fight broke out; a murderous firebender mugger against two desperate, innocent, non-bender parents._

At least the thunder and rain would drown out their screams.

No one else would find the bodies until the next morning, not knowing who the couple's family were, if they had children or not- no way to identify the bodies. They had no choice but to bury them. If the couple had children, they were never found; just two more little orphans on the street of a dangerous city.

He cries. Now still in the_ same_ alleyway, ten years later, he had ran down the_ same_ street, passed the _same_ barber shop with the _same_ yellow-tinted windows, with _Korra _calling after him this time and he still hadn't stopped, still hadn't learned to listen. Bolin's vision began to blur as tears drowned his sight. He was unlovable. He didn't deserve love. And he knew that his whole life, he had just been a burden to his brother. Mako would have been so better off without him, without having to sacrifice everything for him, without him waying Mako down.

He cries, because the thing he remembers the most at the moment was that the day before it happened, the day before his sixth birthday; the day before they were killed, she taught him how to play the erhu. And it was the most amazing, beautiful and saddest song ever. The last loving memory with his mother.

And it was like she was just sitting there in that store, all alone, waiting for him to come find her one day and relive that memory with her.

To find the melody in her voice. To remember.

And finally, Bolin _realized._ He realized that he _did_ remember more than he thought; he had just been too scared to. And he cried and cried because it hurt so much, like a physical ach in his gut. He could almost taste the birthday cake wanting to come back up.

Because he knew in his heart that it had been his fault, just like everything else in his life was. Just like every other time that he had gotten into trouble as kids and it had nearly cost Mako his life, having to fight for him. Time after time of Mako being the one to sacrifice, having to starve that extra night because after three days of having no food and finally getting some, there was only enough for one, and you could guess who that would be. Because he was smaller and weaker and younger. It was himself who got the moldy roll, or frozen dumpling, while he could coherently hear Mako's stomach plead and beg and groan, and no matter how many time Bolin broke apart the roll or whatever it was and gave half to Mako, sometimes even trying _to stuff in his brother's mouth _while he bound his hands back with earthbending just so he would eat, Mako always pushed away, ordered him to eat the whole thing, and he would, only for Mako's sake because he knew it satisfied him being the care giver.

Mako had even said it himself: that he "had a knack for getting into stupid situations." And "stupid" being most of the time, making their very lives more threatened than they already were.

And he cries and cries until the song from the erhu is through and the melody was carried away in the wind.

"Mommy…" he whispers for the countless time in all the years gone by, "Mommy, Daddy, come back…I'll listen this time, I _promise_..."

And he doesn't know how long he cries there, in that very same alleyway, on a day that could have been at that moment or ten long years ago, wishing he could remember his parents' faces.

_"Don't. Don't sing to me, Mako. I don't care if I'm twelve now or 1200, I don't deserve a birthday."_

Wishing for a new birthday wish that would make his mother and father come back for him and his brother. Or, if he had to, wish that he had been the one to die that night and not their parents so that they could live and give Mako the love and life that he deserves.

Wishing that he had stopped running to the alley when his parents had called his name and told him to come back, leading them right to mugger.

_"Bolin, stop! Come back!"_

He cries and cries, but his tears will never put out the fire.

"Please, come back…" he whispers as he caves in on himself, "I'm sorry…_I'm so sorry…I was such a bad boy..."_

Somewhere above, the dark skies start to weep tears that crash to the earth in drops. The thunder and lightning shake the earth, just like ten years ago today, as if in warning for something.

_"_I don't care that today is my birthday..." he chokes, "I just want you back..."

And he makes a new wish, this time knowing that they don't always come true...


End file.
